Falling Apart
by Ice Queen and Hero
Summary: Yoko is gone, and Darsh loses his mind. Short one-shot. Please don't murder me.


Hi.

I'mma attempt a fic here.

So.

Inspiration for this is from a poem called Falling Apart, written by a friend of mine. The author is MasterChief37 on deviantART. Please, look him up.

Anyways…

Please, do not murder me if I fail this ;~;

It'll just be a oneshot~!

Disclaimer: If I owned this, I would have continued the anime and finished scanlating the manga -.-

Oh, and be dears and ignore any mistakes or errors like spelling or grammar. This piece of mine wasn't up to my standards, so I was lax in double-checking.

* * *

><p>Darkness.<p>

That was all he stared into. Pure blackness, like the very thought of light didn't exist. He gazed, unblinking. Entranced. Yes. It was so enthralling, this darkness that gripped him. Pulsing, slithering. Simply beautiful. All that existed was nothing.

A shriek snapped him out of his stupor.

"Yoko!" he called, remembering why he was in this blasted hole to begin with. Right, some idiot decided to mess with her again. If they laid one hand on her they'd-

Another scream.

She sounded so close. Like he should be staring right at her, but instead there was nothing. Just black. He pulled at his bindings, quickly become infuriated. Something kept him trapped, powerless. He couldn't use magic or his brute strength to break free.

A long cry, resounding in his ears

Dammit, she was in pain! And he couldn't help her! He snarled, tugging one arm so hard he pulled the joint from its socket. Not that he minded. He couldn't care less. He needed to get to Yoko.

Losing his mind so quickly. He never felt this way. Helpless. Weak. It didn't fit for the handsome and charming main character such as himself.

Yet another screech, the agonized voice forming sounds terribly similar Lushe.

Shortly after she died down, snickering and cackling filled its place. The laughter had a vulgar ring to it, furthering his downward spiral to crazyville. He couldn't be saved, not like the approaching creatures were going to do him the honor. They had come merely to take him out of his bonds and drag across the rough floor, ambling along at their own pace.

His mind wandered, wondering if his strength would return. It had probably started to regenerate, but he was sure they would bind him again before he could fight. They were lowly demons, taking orders from a master, but he couldn't lift a finger against them.

The thoughts passing around him drifted farther away from the present, back into the past. Remembering Yoko. How supporting the girl was to him. She was there for him. Well, by him, of course it was Lushe. Darsh was too brash, too thickheaded to get more than sympathy from her. But Lushe was coddled, loved, and happy.

That happiness had long drained away. Sorrow filled the gap it left.

Yes, it could be assumed he loved the girl. He cared for her enough to call it that. But it was always conflicted. There were far too many women surrounding him to give proper attention to the one that mattered. He would worry if she were gone for a couple hours, silently panicking inside his human host.

He winced at the new bindings around him, tearing into his skin. What flesh wasn't torn was stained, blood dripping freely from unblocked wounds. Scars would be all that remained, should he somehow be freed. Damage, truly the only thing he had to show from his battles. To remind him of his quest.

Yoko was truly the only physical thing he had left in the world.

Time seemed to crawl to a standstill. Nothing moved. He hardly breathed. He couldn't hear her anymore- taken too far away. With a desperate groan, he struggled to move, finding that he once again couldn't. With the blood staining his clothes, he was very close to reeking.

"Hiekhiekhiek!"

Blinking, he stared into the direction of the noise.

"Hiekhiek, you're so pathetic!" the voice laughed. Another continued a shrill giggle.

"You'll get nothing but pain for that! Hiekhiekhiek!"

He grumbled out an insult, only for it to sound like a moan. Uproarious laughter erupted from his spectators, one drawing a sword in the fuss. Unceremoniously running it through Darsh's heart, he continued his giggle fest, leaving with his partner.

His vision narrowed to a tunnel. He felt himself drifting, ever closer to what lesser beings would call hell. Mentally scolding himself- a strange act for someone so brash- he watched as every thought became distant, until he was left wondering what had happened. Where was Yoko? Where was he? Where's Arshes? Why did he, the stongest man alive, feel faint?

He was falling apart, waiting for Yoko.


End file.
